


Before and After

by Chromi



Category: One Piece
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Identity Issues, Introspection, Poetic, Poetry, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromi/pseuds/Chromi
Summary: “Do you like what you see?” Before asks without preamble, sniping and bitter and chin jutting angled. “Do you see me as I am, all broken and lost? Do you see what you were and acknowledge the cost?”"I like the potential that you have to be.” It’s pointless to dance around a subject like this. He’s him; he’s a wound begging relief of dehisce. A scalpel to heart and a quincke to his spine if ever would Before beg relief of any kind. “I like who you are when you turn into me.”
Relationships: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Before and After

“What am I to you?”

The words snap as cold as frost to a toe dipped tentatively in snow. He stops, looks back, beholds the mirror across the small room that reflects himself, yet not.

It is he as he was who stares back. He before _he_ ; he who was left behind to fear disgrace, and neglect, and anger. The abandoned name; the cast aside persona. A life cut short by the man who continues to wear his skin – a shadow (a corpse?) of fear and blame wrapped around shoulders broadened by love, by hope, by flames.

“What are you to me?”

He retraces his steps, curiosity found. The mirror of the bathroom – one oval and polished – draws him in, spellbound.

Before’s face looking back is bared, yet his feet, wrists, mind, _soul_ are trapped and ensnared. Owned. Property of the father; of education; of tradition. Not his own person; not his own mind. It shows, and it _does,_ though he tries to hide.

After, stood present, is masked (thought hidden), rid of the chains that strangled and froze. Freer than Before and he’s prisoner no more; there is a grace to his movements as he straightens, waits, _knows_.

“Do you like what you see?” Before asks without preamble, sniping and bitter and chin jutting angled. “Do you see me as I am, all broken and lost? Do you see what you were and acknowledge the cost?”

The cost, After well knows, is not one paid through silver and gold. The cost, he can see, hides deep in the lines of the downturned smile; runs painful and blistered in a soul beyond old. Before hurts, and he screams though he never is heard; he bleeds from the inside, his blood penned into words. Words that are dashed, scorned, ridiculed – words that he burned like some damn blighted fool.

After remembers. After knows. After still tastes the soot of Before’s smoking prose.

“I like the potential that you have to be.” It’s pointless to dance around a subject like this. He’s him; he’s a wound begging relief of dehisce. A scalpel to heart and a quincke to his spine if ever would Before beg relief of any kind. “I like who you are when you turn into me.”

“You’re pirate – you’re second – you’re what you’d call scum; you’re practically married to the Pirate King’s son!”

“A life I’ll well spend at his whims and behest,” After says with a smile and a dip to his chest. “My name may have changed and my heart may be lighter, but at my core, Before, I’m still that same writer. A writer whose ambition is to pen Ace’s tale; to love and support him until my heart fails. I know what you seek and it isn’t found alone; you were never supposed to adventure on your own.”

Before's almost convinced – he’s said the right words – he’s taken his doubts and he’s cut them to thirds. A promise of love and of freedom at sea is not something either could have ever foreseen. Not really; not now; not ever like this – under a pirate’s flag leaning into a kiss. And not just a kiss but a kiss of true love! A kiss of the likes that’s not ever enough.

_A life I will live filled without regret – a life just for him and whatever comes next._

“Come with me,” he urges, a hand to his cheek, “come see what I found and find what you seek. This doubt and this hatred that weighs choking your mind – we’ll take it and break it and leave it behind.”

His reflection looks back but it’s him without _him_. He sees himself touching blue mask above skin. After has banished the doubts of Before; there’s nothing and no one but Ace in whom he’s sure.


End file.
